waxing and waning

Posted on Saturday, March 21, 2015

In the library of my home

I spend hours digging and searching

as if a book or even a final sentence

will give me what it is I hope to find.

Some days books are sorted by category:

… Parenting



Spiritual …

Other days, when the moon lightens

the entire room, books have wiggled

their way off the shelf and onto a dresser –

a quick skim as I dress – or the arm of the living room

couch – a moment or two when sipping on tea

as my little one runs on the natural rush of boyhood.

Whether sorted or scattered, new authors with names

unknown, and those forever marked on our tongues,

I seek their voices as the call on the other end

of the line as my heart shares the latest news.

“I am lost,” I tell Mr. Nepo.

I open The Book of Awakening for his reply.

Or perhaps it’s dear Hafiz I call

on lonely days to hear his bellowing laughter

as he reminds me The Friend is always near.

It is then, as the result after conversing

with any good friend, I’m lifted up to carry on for

a short while, until, just as the moon,

the inevitable cycle continues.

What is it – the moon must wonder –

she searches for night and day,

her eyes scanning tiny bends and folds of

black against white? The pages begin thin

on one side, thick on another, and slowly

progress, like the waxing and waning

of my very existence.

Stop your frustration, she tells me.

This is how it must be. We empty

and fill again and again.

To remain full – physically or intellectually,

spiritually or emotionally –

would simply leave each of us bloated,

moaning of the fullness we carry.

Instead, enjoy these glimpses of filling, and the

freedom we then feel in emptying.

feature image, embrace of the moon, provided by TheAshCottage

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